


Discord

by yeaka



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, Ficlet, M/M, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 13:30:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11059992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Sidon regrets pushing Link too far.





	Discord

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyiora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyiora/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for kyoki-tana’s “SidLink for number 45, “Sometimes I really don’t like you”” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/160417565360/prompt-list).  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Legend of Zelda or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s lonely below the domain. That’s Sidon’s biggest problem, even though it’s also his prime motivation—he came down here specifically to be alone. He doesn’t want to burden his subjects with his troubles, and he doesn’t want them to see him wallow. He doesn’t want to wallow at all, but he can’t seem to help himself. For once, Sidon is _miserable_.

He wades in little circles in lieu of sleeping. The water feels cold, and it moves a tad too fast for his liking—the waterfalls that pour down send out cascading ripples, while the pools his people prefer for sleeping are typically still. But it’s mostly the loneliness that keeps Sidon awake, and not the simple lack of anyone here, but the profound, empty feeling in his chest that he fears won’t ever mend.

He lost the one person he cares about most because of his ridiculous attitude and his inability to just be _quiet_. His beloved Hylian had stumbled out of the shrine room, battered and bruised and breathing hard, and Sidon didn’t have the tools to heal him. Sidon told him he would recover. He’d strengthen and return to conquer the monster that sent him fleeing. Link insisted he wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ —the guardians were too strong and there were just too many, and it was a waste of shields to even _try_ —but Sidon foolishly kept _pushing_. Looking back, the memory is painful. He’d watched Link fall deeper and deeper into depression, and all he’d done is countered back _you can do it_ , ignoring Link’s protests, until finally Link looked up at him and signed: _Sometimes I really don’t like you._

Sidon’s chest aches to even think of it. Not because Link was cruel, but because he was right. Sidon wishes he’d just listened, instead of blathering on when optimism wasn’t what Link needed. But Link walked off before he could apologize, even before he understood. He thought encouragement was always best. Now, in a pit of his own pain, he realizes how that could be grating. He wonders how many times he grated on Link’s nerves in the past, and Link just politely took it. He wishes he hadn’t opened his big mouth at all.

He wishes he could swim away from everything, because he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to go on smiling tomorrow when his heart’s been ripped out of him. Only duty holds him to the area. He has to remind himself, again and again, that he has subjects to be strong for. He has to keep smiling for their sake. Unless they’re already down, and then he’ll really have to learn to take a hint, even if they’re silent and only form words when absolutely necessary.

He stops swimming circles around the little island in the center, instead letting himself sink lower into the water. He thinks of swimming under one of the falls; maybe the pounding water will distract him from his own dejection. 

Then a sudden splash to his left draws his attention, and he swivels around to see a familiar set of golden locks emerge from below. Link sucks in a breath, his peach skin drizzled in clear water and lit in the warm glow of the stars. His eyes are big and blue, purer than the sea, his soft face the most handsome thing Sidon’s ever seen. Sidon’s breath catches in both his mouth and gills while Link wades slowly closer.

Link comes to just an arm’s length away and stops, Zora armour just barely visible above the surface. Sidon’s tongue is thick in his mouth. He struggles to finally blurt, “I’m sorry. I’m terribly sorry, I’ll go—” and he turns, ready to give Link all the space he needs, but he puts a hand on Sidon’s shoulder that halts the movement. Link’s soft skin is like a bolt of electricity through Sidon’s body, only all pleasure and anticipation. He’s glad when Link’s hand falls away a moment later; their contact is a treat Sidon doesn’t deserve right now.

He’d hoped that Link, free of his pestering for at least a few hours, would at least feel better, more peaceful. But up close, even in the darkness, Sidon can see the water in the corners of Link’s eyes, beaded up beyond the simple swim. Link’s cheeks are tracked like he’s been crying, and he looks more haggard than ever—the sight _breaks_ Sidon. He starts again, “Link, I—”

 _I’m sorry_ , Link signs, finished in a heartbeat.

Sidon instantly shakes his head, correcting, “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s I who overstepped, and for that I am truly sorry—”

 _I do like you_ , Link flashes right over top of him. And just like that, the floodgates are open; Link wades only with his legs while his wrists dart from one position to another atop the shimmering surface. _It’s just that there’s so much riding on me, so much to do, and I get so overwhelmed sometimes. I do appreciate you believing in me. I really do. But sometimes it’s just so much that it feels like I can’t take any more expectations, and the pressure mounts all the more. I can’t fail, even though sometimes I think it would just be so much easier if I could. If I do fail, then suddenly I’ll be failing myself, the princess, all of Hyrule, the Champions, and... and you. Most of all, you. And I’d rather be nothing to you than disappoint you._

When he stops, he’s sunken lower, and he waves his arms out to bob higher. Sidon barely notices. Sidon’s head is reeling. He mentally kicks himself again—it all makes sense in that context, encouragement akin to expectations. Of course he should’ve known. Link has _so much_ on his little shoulders. Sidon breathes, “You’d never disappoint me. ...But you could never be nothing to me, either.” Link dons a tiny smile; maybe he understands. 

Squaring himself taller, Sidon nods to both of them. “No, you could never disappoint, no matter what happens. I’m sorry, Link—I never wanted to make you feel like you couldn’t fall, because you can, and I will never judge you. I just want to be there to catch you! But I understand, I do. I... I just wish there was something more I could do to help...”

 _You do help_ , Link signs, hands slow and subtle, almost whispering. _Knowing you believe in me does help. I just... have bad days sometimes. I’m sorry._

“I’m sorry.” Hoping they’re okay, Sidon dares to swim a little closer, and Link tilts up to meet him and doesn’t pull away, to Sidon’s immense relief. “I still should’ve taken your queues, and I will endeavor to do so in the future. That is... if you still speak to me...” Link lets out a quiet little laugh and nods, swelling relief in Sidon’s chest. He finishes, “Let me withdraw my earlier comments then. You don’t need to go back at all. You can just take a break for a while. You deserve one! You do so much, and it’s okay to need rest.”

Link gives a weary sigh and just signs, _Thanks._

Sidon smiles. And he hopes it isn’t the huge, toothy, goofy grin Link always gives him, but he can’t help himself. He’s so pleased to see Link again he can hardly contain it. He just stares down at Link, basking in that, in Link’s greatness and Link’s beauty, until Link signs, _I went to the inn to rest, actually, but... none of the beds are as comfy as my prince._

Sidon’s sure he’s blushing. Link always plays havoc on his temperature, something that used to be so stable. But Link makes him flush from fin to feet, and he pushes past it to wade the extra step, letting his broader chest bump against Link’s soft tunic. 

Link lifts his arms to Sidon’s shoulders, wrapping around his neck, and Sidon tilts back, kicking his legs forward, until he’s swept up to float on his back, Link resting snugly atop his chest. Spread out across him, Link smiles down, silhouetted in starlight and more dazzling than any gem. Link props up on his elbows just long enough to sign, _Even on bad days, I do love you._

“I always love you,” Sidon murmurs, bending to kiss Link’s forehead, the only part he can reach. “And I will always love you, win or lose, fight or flight, come what may. And I’ll try to be more thoughtful about how I express it in the future.”

Link smiles, then shuts his perfect eyes. Sidon’s happy to watch him slip off to sleep, and to guard him against the wanting world.


End file.
